


Things that need to be said

by liars_dance



Category: Lord of the Rings RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-07-02
Updated: 2012-07-02
Packaged: 2017-11-09 01:13:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,153
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/449610
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/liars_dance/pseuds/liars_dance
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sean and Viggo reach a watershed. Viggo leaves and Sean follows...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Things that need to be said

  


\-- [Things that need to be said] -- 

 

"I was about to say there was no need to ring the bell," Sean says as he unlocks and opens the door to his London home. "That you should've come right in. But then I realised as I was opening the door just now that I'd deadlocked the bloody thing so even if you'd tried to open it, you wouldn't have been able to..." Suddenly dry mouthed, Sean pauses, flushes pink and then smiles nervously. "Sorry, Viggo - here's me jabbering on with you standing there on me doorstep." He glances outside in case someone is out there watching them; some prat of paparazzi photographer with a fucking long lens, most likely. "Come on in."

Viggo smiles and steps inside, setting down his suitcase in the hallway as Sean closes the door behind him. Fuck, it had been too long since they had last had any decent amount of time together - and already it seemed that Sean's customary anxiety had returned. "Hello to you too," Viggo says softly, his eyes searching Sean's flushed and anxious face. "Are you okay?"

"I'm great, thanks," Sean lies, pushing his hands into his pockets and feeling once more like he's on a first date. It was like this every time they met up; it was like he'd forgotten how to just 'be' with Viggo - forgotten how easy it used to be when they were just friends - before they became lovers and everything got complicated. And Sean had never worked out how to get that easiness back. Nowadays he mostly thought they were both going to hell... "It's a bit early for a beer," he adds, glancing at his watch and resorting to an area of comfort. "Fancy a cuppa?"

"Please," Viggo whispers as he shrugs off his backpack and leaves it next to his case. "My throat's as dry as dust." He's about to ask where he should take his bags - just like he always did - but by the time he straightens, Sean is already halfway down the long hallway to the kitchen. Viggo watches him disappear, then sighs, stretches his shoulders and follows. _Okay... so that's the way it is - again..._

In the kitchen, Sean struggles with his familiar demons and doubts as he holds the kettle under the tap. He'd all but convinced himself that this time he'd say what needed to be said; that this time he'd tell Viggo that what they had wasn't working - that what they had wasn't what he wanted - and that they had to stop. But now Viggo was actually here in the house, saying all that seemed a lot more difficult... Glancing up, Sean catches sight of Viggo's reflection in the kitchen window and quickly clears his throat. "So, when do you need to be back in the States, Vig?" he asks as he switches the kettle on and then busies himself finding the necessary items from his very tidy kitchen cupboards. "I mean, when will you be leaving?"

Viggo leans on the countertop on the other side of the kitchen and watches Sean set about his tea making ritual. When the first thing your lover asks is when you'll be leaving, something definitely wasn't right... "Great welcome, Sean," he murmurs. "Probably your best to date... But like I said on the phone, I have a meeting tomorrow and an interview Friday. Beyond that - well, I don't need to be back in the US until the twelfth. So how long depends on you and your commitments. If you're busy, just tell me to go whenever you want. I can always get an earlier flight."

"Tell you to go?" Sean repeats questioningly, briefly glancing round at Viggo. "I don't think it'll come to that, Vig. You're welcome to stay here till you need to go back home." Sean cringes inwardly at his pathetic choice of words and returns his attention to making the tea.

Viggo stares at Sean's back for a moment or two then pushes himself away from the countertop and crosses the room. _Fuck, Bean - what is this? Welcome to stay till I need to go home?_ Stepping up close Viggo rests his hands on his lover's slim hips and his chin on one decidedly tense shoulder. With a sigh, Viggo nuzzles into Sean's neck, sniffing the familiar scent of his cologne. "You're not great, are you?" Viggo asks softly, slipping his hands around Sean's waist. "You're as tense as hell... Want to talk about it?" 

Sean sucks in a breath, his body tensing even more at the touch of Viggo's warm hands and lips, despite his attempts to relax. "It's nowt really," he mutters. "It's just that I still can't seem to pick up where we left off like you can - pretend that three months have gone by - you know that. I can't seem to relax - at first, like."

"I know you can't," Viggo sighs into Sean's hair, suddenly very much aware of how long it had been since they'd last been together. "But you could if we went up upstairs," he whispers huskily, his thumbs stroking Sean's hips in slow circles. "And _you_ know that..." Viggo pauses and kisses Sean's neck just below his ear. "I'd strip off these clothes real slow and lie you down on that big bed of yours and make damn sure you were relaxed. I'd put my lips and tongue on every inch of your skin... Do you remember last time, Sean? You were so beautiful - your skin was flushed and damp and your eyes were like great green saucers. You were all open and spread wide, silently begging to be taken. It was amazing - like it always is - and it'd be like that again - I'd have you so relaxed you'd be purring like a kitten..."

Sean holds his breath, his skin already tingling just at the thought of Viggo's mouth on different parts of his body. Sometimes he swore Viggo's lips and fingers left marks on his skin - marks of ownership that other people could see... And he knows Viggo is right - if they went upstairs, he _would_ relax, but he can't - not right now - it was the middle of the day, for fuck's sake... "No, Viggo," he whispers, licking his dry lips. "Because we have to talk - at least _I_ have to talk - and if we go to bed that won't happen. Things won't get said - and there are things that _need_ to be said - things that should have been said a long time ago, in fact."

"What kind of things?" Viggo asks hesitantly, not liking where he thinks this conversation might be going, but determined not to move away. "You're worrying me, Sean."

"I'm sorry," Sean replies, turning to face Viggo but at the same time pulling away from his embrace. "It's just that I had all this stuff planned in me head that I needed to say and now you're here, it's all got jumbled up..."

"Then un-jumble it," Viggo murmurs, inching forward, wanting Sean in his arms again, but Sean takes another step back, so Viggo lets his outstretched arms fall back to his sides. "Try - please," he adds. "Because now you're really worrying me, love."

Sean looks up. "There - you just said it," he says softly. "And so easily you said it too. Love, Viggo - _love_. How can you say that and make it all sound so normal - so easy?" _And how can you say that and then disappear back to your life as easily as you do?_ he adds silently. 

Viggo frowns. How many times were they going to go over the same damn ground? "I say it because it is easy," he says softly. "It's easy to love you, Sean - despite your neuroses and twitchy paranoia. What's not so easy is understanding why you can't believe that. And why you can't begin to believe that what we both feel - and I think it is the both of us here, despite what you say or don't say - that it is love..."

"You know why!" Sean blurts out. "It's because we're blokes, Viggo - and middle aged blokes at that. Don't you see? It's not what we should be doing - it's not..." He stops, biting back the word 'normal' that's trying to escape from his lips, then sighs and shakes his head. "Christ, I don't know, Vig. Sometimes I think it might be something more but then at others I think it's just... well, you know - just bloody great sex five or six times a year." 

"Just sex," Viggo replies stiffly. "Well, it's good to know you think it's something, Sean - even if you don't know or want to admit what that something is."

Sean stares at Viggo for a moment, knowing he's flushing to the roots of his hair... He also knows his confusion and behaviour is hurting Viggo, but somehow he can't help it. Because middle aged, high profile men weren't supposed to do what he and Viggo were doing, were they? They weren't supposed to spend hours in bed touching and stroking and kissing till they could barely breathe and then fall asleep only to wake up and start all over again. It wasn't bloody normal - but fuck, it was bloody good...

"Those other times," Viggo continues, sitting down at the kitchen table with a sigh. "Those other times when it's just sex; what do you think then?" 

Sean looks across the room at Viggo. "That it's just become something we do when we meet up - a habit, I suppose. That maybe neither of us is really sure we should be... y'know - doing what we're doing, like."

"Doing what we're doing, like," Viggo repeats, staring down at Sean's spotlessly clean floor. "And that's what exactly, Sean? Talking? Enjoying each other's company? Or does 'doing what we're doing, like' just refer to us fucking?"

Sean swallows and shakes his head. "Don't, Vig. Don't say it like that."

"Why not? It's what you're all worked up about, isn't it?" Viggo counters, lifting his head and staring at Sean. "You like my company and you quite like that I can actually cook and clean up - despite your preconceptions. You even like cuddling up on the sofa and making out, so long as it's dark outside of course, and all the damn curtains are closed. It's just the getting naked bit that gets you all worried about hell and eternal damnation isn't it? I thought we'd got through this, Sean..."

"No! It's not like that," Sean replies, wondering where all his carefully prepared and rehearsed words had gone to. "But when we've y'know - broken the ice, like, I relax a bit like you said - and things seem simpler - they get easier." 

Viggo swallows but the tight, slightly sick feeling he has inside increases. "You mean when we've fucked," he says softly.

"No, Vig," Sean murmurs. "I mean when we've made love."

Viggo clears his throat. "Yeah?" he asks softly. "So why didn't you say that in the first place? Why say something meaningless like 'breaking the ice'?" 

"I don't know," Sean replies, glancing briefly at Viggo before returning his gaze to the bright sunny day outside. "Embarrassed, I suppose. You know me - I still don't feel comfortable talking about what we do."

Viggo closes his eyes. _Would things ever change?_ "I know, Sean," he says flatly. "You don't like talking about doing it but you sure as hell  do like doing it. Maybe you should stop thinking about it though - because your dick might just drop off..."

Sean winces at the hurt he can hear beneath the sarcasm. "Don't, Viggo - please. I know I'm a pain in the arse but I'm trying to explain how I'm feeling here." Again he glances at Viggo who nods but doesn't say anything further.

"Like I say, when we're together, things seem simpler but when we're apart - which is most of the time - I can’t help having all these doubts. I keep thinking that at our age we both should be married - settled down with good women and kids - maybe even dancing grandkids on our knees and worrying about stocks and shares and health insurance..."

"You mean you think _you_ should be doing all that," Viggo interrupts. "Don't include me - that's not how I see _my_ life."

Sean sighs and crosses his arms defensively. "All right. Maybe _I_ should be doing all of that stuff - and not what we're doing. Because I'm not gay, Viggo. If we stopped seeing each other, I wouldn't be out there looking for another man to take your place." _Not that anyone could..._

"You mean you'd be looking for a woman to restore the straight-gay balance in your life," Viggo mutters, a touch of bitterness creeping into his voice. 

"No - I mean I wouldn't be looking for _anyone_ ," Sean continues, knowing he's saying everything the wrong way. "Fuck, Viggo - I wasn't looking for this with you. You just happened."

Viggo swallows, his throat getting tighter by the moment. "Right. So what you're saying is that I should be grateful for what I've got, yeah? Well, thanks for that, Sean." 

"No, I didn't mean that, Viggo - and you know it." 

"Do I, Sean?" Viggo asks softly. " What do I know, exactly? Tell me what I know when the minute I get here you ask me when I'm leaving. Tell me what I know when you don't kiss me because it's daylight and somebody - though fuck knows who and how exactly - might just see us. Tell me what I know when you don't even give me a hug - fuck, in the old days we always used to hug each other hello, no matter where we were... And then tell me what I know when you tell me you've got something to say but never actually get around to saying anything except that you're not gay of course. Like I haven't heard that one a million times already..."

"I'm sorry, Viggo - I..."

"Or that one," Viggo interrupts. "You're sorry, Sean - always you're fucking sorry. Sorry for saying one thing and sorry for not saying another. But most of all you're sorry for wanting me - because that makes you feel weak, abnormal - dirty even. And for the record, I didn't go looking for you - or set out to fall in love with you either - but I did and at least I'm being honest about how I feel." 

Sean opens his mouth, about to argue, but then stops himself - because deep down he knows that every word Viggo has just said is true. He does feel abnormal and dirty for wanting Viggo - but that doesn't stop him wanting. And for that, he's certain he's going to hell...

When Sean doesn't even try to argue, Viggo sighs and rubs his eyes. Travel fatigue was catching up with him already - that and a sense of the inevitable as far as their relationship was concerned. "Do you know what I'd hoped for?" he asks suddenly. "That one day you'd maybe meet me at the airport. Or that one night you'd just call and tell me about your day and then tell me that you miss me as much as I miss you and that you'd ask me to come over. Or that maybe just one time you'd get on a plane and come stay with me in my home..." Viggo pauses and takes a breath as the reality of their situation finally sinks in. "But none of that's going to happen, is it, Sean? Because you haven't got a spontaneous or risk taking bone left in your body - if you ever had one at all. And, of course, you're not gay," he adds softly, staring at Sean across the room. He can see the all too familiar mix of anxiety, guilt and uncertainty on Sean's face and knows that his being here is the cause of that expression. And in that moment, Viggo makes a decision.

"I'm going to check into a hotel, Sean - my being here isn't helping either of us." Viggo smiles sadly. "I guess it's time to stop trying to make you feel something you don't feel."

Sean swallows, still reeling a little from the things Viggo had said he wanted but most of all startled by his last few words. 

"No - don't do that," he whispers urgently, a knot of fear tightening in his chest. What they had might not be what he wanted but to have nothing was unthinkable... "I've started lunch," he adds, unsure of how to respond but needing to say something. "There's some of your favourite ice cream in the freezer and I got us some strawberries from the market."

"Now you ask me to stay just because you bought strawberries?" Viggo replies. "Fuck, Sean - just have them yourself," he finishes, unable to keep the hurt out of his voice as he stands up and turns towards the door. "I'll call you before I go home..."

Sean stands up, moving quickly to grasp Viggo's arm. "Don't go, Viggo - please. All that stuff you said you want - it sort of took me by surprise. I didn't know you wanted stuff like that. I didn't realise..."

Viggo turns back towards Sean. "No - I don't suppose you did - even though I've made it pretty clear how I feel about you all along the line. Because you've been too busy beating yourself up and convincing yourself that you're going to hell for wanting another man. I've never asked for public shows of love and affection, Sean - I know we're different like that. That's why we stay holed up in here. Me, I don't mind if the whole world knows - not that it's any of their fucking business - but I respect your feelings so I haven't told a soul. I don't mind what lies you want to tell the world about your life - I just hoped that there'd come a day when you'd be honest with _me_."

Sean swallows. "I'm sorry, Viggo. Seems I can't even be honest with meself, let alone you. Maybe I just need more time..." 

"And if I thought that'd really make a difference I'd give you all the time in the world," Viggo interrupts. "But it won't, Sean. Don't you see? I've given you time - nearly three years worth of time - nearly three years of looking for any excuse to come over here - nearly three years of hoping that the next time things would be different - and never in all that time have you initiated us getting together - not once."

"Don't you think this whole situation is getting to me too, Viggo?" Sean retorts, his heart racing. "Don't you think that _I_ want things to be different?"

Viggo shakes his head. "No, Sean - I don't. I don't have a fucking clue what you want because you won't tell me. All you've ever made me think is that I'm forcing you to do something you don't really want to do... And that if I didn't call or make up some dumb excuse to come over here, there wouldn't be an 'us' for you to be agonizing over."

"No - you're wrong, Vig. That's not what it's like - that's not what it's like at all. I..." Sean pauses and closes his eyes, turning to rest his forehead against the warm glass of the French doors that lead to the garden. For a few minutes he stands still, eyes shut tight and breathing deeply, trying to make sense of the storm of words in his head and the ache in his chest so he can try to explain to the one person in the world who would understand - the one person in the world who really mattered - just how he feels. But by the time he opens his eyes and turns, finally ready to at least try, that person was no longer there. 

"Viggo?" Sean calls softly, moving slowly into the hallway, half expecting to find him there. But his gaze immediately locks onto the now empty space where Viggo had left his case and rucksack. Too late, Sean opens the door and steps outside, glancing each way up the quiet tree lined street, but there is no sign of Viggo. Returning inside, Sean closes the door and locks it. There was no point looking upstairs; he knew Viggo had gone. But to where? "Fuck," he mutters, resting his forehead against the closed door. "Fuck..."

\-- [*] -- 

  


On a plane somewhere over the Atlantic, Viggo stares out of the window at a sea of cloud. He'd handled it badly; he shouldn't have left like that - he shouldn't have blamed Sean for not feeling the same way he did - he should've stopped trying before now; fuck - the writing had been there on the wall for a long time... Yet still he'd hoped that Sean would find him - that somehow he'd find the hotel where he was staying - but of course it hadn't happened. And he'd hoped that Sean would follow him into the street and stop him before he'd hailed the miraculously passing cab - but he hadn't. Three days Viggo had remained in that hotel - one day for each of the years he'd spent trying to make Sean believe. But there had been no contact. Had he really expected it? Probably not... In the end, too choked and hurt to call Sean to let him know he was leaving, late on that third evening, Viggo cancelled his interview scheduled for the following day and took an early flight home.

\-- [Two weeks later...] -- 

"We're here. The address you gave me - this is it..."

The driver's voice cuts through Sean's thoughts and he sits up straight, fumbling for his wallet to pay the fare. When he steps out onto the side of the road, the air is still warm, despite the fading light in the sky. _Of course it is, you wanker - you're in bloody California now..._ As the car drives away, Sean stands and looks at the house in front of him. He'd done it then. He'd flown over here with his head and his heart full of all sorts of feelings and thoughts and fears. But this time it was going to be different. He'd planned it all - even made some notes to use in an emergency - but hadn't over-rehearsed. This time he was going to say what needed to be said. Sean straightens his collar and rubs at his stubbled jaw and then picks up his bag and walks up the drive to the front door. There don't seem to be any lights on inside that he can see and neither does there appear to be a doorbell so after a moment's pause, he leans forward a little and knocks on the door. A dog immediately starts barking inside but he can't hear any other sound. _Oh please, Viggo - be in, for fuck's sake. Don't make me have to prepare this all over again..._

 

The dog barking alerts Viggo to someone at the front of the house and with a sigh, he throws down the small handsaw that he'd been using in an attempt to prune an unruly climbing rose and wanders to the high side gate. Poking his head over the top he sees Sean standing outside his front door, a small holdall in his hand. _What the...?_ His heart literally thumping in his chest, Viggo runs inside the darkened house, moving quickly to the front door and pulling it open.

"I was beginning to think you weren't in," Sean announces, determined to speak first.

"Sean? When the fuck did you get here? Why didn't you tell me you were coming?"

"A few hours ago," Sean murmurs, ignoring Viggo's other question. "I called Percival and your agent from the airport who told me they thought you'd said you were heading home later, so I went and got meself something to eat and then got a taxi - sorry, a _cab_ over here."

"What if I hadn't come home?" Viggo asks, trying to keep his cool when all he really wants to do is pull Sean inside, push him against the wall and kiss him senseless. "What then?"

"I'd have booked into a hotel somewhere and tried again tomorrow. I might lack spontaneity and be averse to risk, but I'm not clueless, Viggo."

Viggo can feel his face flush at Sean's rightful rebuke. "Of course - I know you're not. So why...?" But he doesn't get to finish his question.

"You said you loved me," Sean interrupts. "But you left. I had strawberries and ice cream, Viggo - and you left. I had best rump steak in the fridge and fresh sheets on the bed - not to mention a bloody drawer full of banana and caramel cream flavoured lube - and you still walked out of the fucking door." 

"Yes, Sean - I did; I left _because_ I love you," Viggo replies, still gazing at Sean in disbelief. Sean was here - here in the US - at his house - on his doorstep, for fucks' sake. "But why are you here?" he asks, managing to finish his original question.

"Because telephones or emails don't work. What I had to say had to be said in person, Viggo. I had to come and tell you that I can't do what we've been doing any more," Sean replies, his voice softening a little and at that moment he has to look down and away from Viggo's eyes which were suddenly too blue...

 _I'd kind of worked that one out already..._ Viggo nods, the breathless elation he'd felt a few moments ago disappearing fast as he looks at Sean's down turned head. "I know you can't and I understand," he says softly. "You didn't need to come all this way to tell me what I already know. Because I _do_ love you, Sean - enough to see past what I wanted to what all this was doing to you. I finally worked that one out - it took me a while but I got there. That's why I left. Because I know..." 

Sean's head snaps up. "No! You don't fucking know, Viggo. You've no idea what's been going on inside me head for the last three years - the battles I've had. You've no idea what it's like to be me when I look at you - no bloody idea what it's like to have lost any sense of who or what you are... So don't tell me you know, because you don't. No - I mean I can't do _this_ ," he adds, thumping his chest with a closed fist.

"Do what?" Viggo whispers, hardly daring to breathe.

"All this!" Sean almost shouts, throwing his arms up in the air. "Breathe in and out - swallow, sleep, eat, drink, walk - _live_ , Viggo - do what ordinary people do - just bloody live. Over the last three years and especially the last couple of weeks I realised that I don't want to do any of it - I _can't_ do any of it even - without you. What I wanted to tell you back in London was that I couldn't keep on doing what we were doing - those occasional, sex-filled weekends that were over much too soon - and never knowing when the next one would be. Because that's what I hated, Viggo - the not knowing - and not having the courage to ask; I really hated myself for that. And, of course, I hated having you tell me you love me one minute and then in the next you'd be saying goodbye and there was just me watching you disappear back to your world; that just made it even worse. I mean, how could you love me and then just go back home? Back to 'Planet Viggo' - the place where you always seemed most comfortable; a world of art and poetry and meaningful conversation where you're surrounded by people who shared the same views on life - a world where you don't have to skulk around in the dark like you do with me. You'd go back there - fitting straight back in like nothing had happened and I'd be left with all me fears and doubts in a world where I didn't seem to belong anymore. Because it was like I wasn't Sean Bean anymore - I was this man who didn't know if he was gay or straight or something in between. And I still don't, Viggo, to be honest; I just know I need you..."

Viggo stands breathless, astonished by the stream of words that hast just issued forth from Sean's lips without a pause. _All this time he'd been fighting with this...?_ "Fuck, Sean," Viggo murmurs huskily. "I wish you'd told me all this before." . 

" _You_ wish, Viggo? I wish I'd _known_ before!" Sean retorts, dropping his bag on the ground and suddenly grasping Viggo's face in his hands. "But that's the problem with having your head up your arse, I suppose; you can't see too well... That last time, Viggo, I had it all planned - what I was going to say. But then it all went wrong the moment you arrived - I don't know why - and by the time I'd got it sorted again, you were gone. Those first few days were awful - the lowest of my life, I think. I blamed you for everything I was feeling - all the hurt and disappointment - and the longing. Fuck, did I feel sorry for meself. But when I realised that four days had gone by and I hadn't so much as set foot outside the door or even answered the bloody telephone, I knew I had to sort meself out. It didn't take too long to realise that what I needed most of all was you. When I said I wouldn't be looking for anyone to take your place, Viggo, I meant it - because no-one ever could..." 

"I thought I was forcing you," Viggo whispers, his eyes misting suddenly as he stares back at Sean. "But I wanted you so much I couldn't stop myself from trying. That's why I'd leave and then not contact you for a while; I was hoping that you'd get in touch - that you'd make the first move for once. When you didn't, it just got to the point where I'd have to call you again. Like I said, I couldn't stop myself."

"But you did this time," Sean murmurs huskily, stroking his fingers into Viggo's soft hair. "And it’s a bloody good thing you did because it forced me into admitting to meself how I felt about you. Now, are you going to ask me in or am I going to have to finish what I came here to say here on your bloody doorstep?"

"Here sounds good," Viggo whispers without hesitation, thinking that Sean - all rumpled, stubbled, flushed and yet strangely confident - had never looked so beautiful. 

Sean licks his lips. "I thought you'd say that," he murmurs, then clears his throat. "I love you, Viggo - I'm terrified of what that means; terrified that one day I'll wake up and you'll not want me any more. And I'm terrified of what sort of useless tosser I'd be without you. But I love you enough to risk that happening." He exhales slowly. "Now - tell me what you're thinking - what you're thinking right now."

"That it's time you came inside," Viggo replies with a smile.

\-- [*] -- 

Viggo's house was as Sean had always imagined it would be - quietly chaotic - just like the man who lived there. The place was untidy with an eclectic mix of possessions scattered around every horizontal surface. There was no TV but there was an old radio in the kitchen and hundreds of books. "I'd have tidied up a little if I'd known you were coming," Viggo said a little sheepishly, quickly pushing dirty plates into the sink. "Maybe even cleaned myself up too," he added, brushing his hands down the legs of a none too clean and well worn pair of cord pants. "Sorry I'm all messed up - I was trying to tame that Casino rose out there..."

Sean recognized the nervous note to Viggo's voice because he'd heard it in his own words so many times before. "So I see," he replied, taking one of Viggo's hands in his own and examining the fingers and palm, noting the short deep scratch at the base of the thumb and immediately pressing his lips to it before working his tongue across it, sucking at it to soften and moisten the torn skin. When he looked up from his ministrations, Viggo's eyes had gone dark and his lashes were wet with tears.

"I can't believe you're here," Viggo whispered and without a moment's hesitation Sean reached out and pulled him into a tight hug, holding him there wordlessly for a long time. 

"You were wrong about my world - about Planet Viggo, I mean," Viggo said suddenly, his husky voice breaking the silence. "It was a hiding place, that's all; somewhere I could blend in - a place where I knew what people expected of me. But it wasn't home, Sean - it used to be, but not for about three years or more..." Viggo lifted his head and smiled. "No, love - wherever we are home is you and me, the ground beneath us and the sky overhead. And what we have isn't just sex..." 

"No, it isn't," Sean murmured in agreement. "There isn't anything that's 'just' where you're concerned, Viggo. Not one thing..."

They kissed then, mutual passion and need growing quickly - almost too quickly as they set about almost tearing at each other's clothes. "Not just sex," Viggo whispered, sucking gently on the skin at the base of Sean's throat. "Fucking wonderful sex..."

The first time had been right there in the kitchen, Sean's entry aided by some tarragon scented oil and accompanied by a low, almost triumphant growl. Viggo's fingers scratched at the wall and his breathless cries of pleasure and ultimately of release were nothing short of a celebration to Sean's ears. Shaken and spent, it took them quite a while to get to the bedroom but by the time they did, Viggo was purring like a well fed, rather sleepy cat. He'd also regained the power of speech but Sean soon silenced him with a succession of slow, open mouthed kisses that robbed them both of breath and the will to stay awake. The second time was during the night - Sean was wakened from a deep dreamless sleep by the wickedest of tongues and fingers and almost before he could draw breath, Viggo lifted his legs over his shoulders and fucked him slowly into the dawn.

\-- [*] -- 

And now, late in the morning they shared a pot of tea made with teabags that Sean had brought with him just in case - a good decision as it turned out - whilst Viggo fixed them some eggs for breakfast.

"You've no idea what it means to me that you came all this way - that you're here with me." Viggo glances at Sean across the kitchen with an almost shy smile. 

"I think I _do_ know, Viggo," Sean replies. "Because I felt the same every time you came to me. I just never told you for some reason - scared to admit it I suppose. I'm sorry about that - so sorry. I was too busy worrying about things that weren't important."

"Don't be sorry - they were important to you at the time," Viggo murmurs. "What's important _now_ is that you're here." He pauses for a moment. "How long can you stay? I mean, I haven't got any strawberries or ice cream..." 

Sean grins. Trust Viggo to word it just right - no clumsy, ambiguous bollocks in that question. And the look of hope and love in Viggo's eyes despite the gentle tease about the contents of his refrigerator meant there was no room for half measures or half promises. He watches Viggo bring the pan to the table and tip scrambled eggs onto two plates, then return the pan to the stove to cool. Then he takes a breath. "At the risk of sounding really bloody cheesy, how does forever sound?" 

"You mean that?" Viggo whispers, sitting down quickly and staring across the table at Sean. 

"Course I mean it," Sean replies with mock indignation. "But this particular visit could only stretch to a week and then only if I can borrow some of your underwear or buy some... I meant forever in the 'I want you for the rest of my life' sense. And I want that life to be with you - a _proper_ life. So, Viggo - will forever do?" 

Viggo sighs out a breath and grasps Sean's hand, lifting it quickly to his lips and kissing his palm. "It'll do for a start, I guess," he whispers, tears once more beading on his lashes. He brushes at them impatiently with his free hand and then smiles. "Now, eat your eggs before they get cold. And when you've done, you can make some more tea and then explain why you want to buy my underwear..."

\--[END] --

 


End file.
